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The sweet, satisfied warmth of an orgasm spreads through me, my vision turning blurry for a few seconds as the euphoria remains. As I realize I’mstillcoming, and so is she.
By the time I pull out, I’m breathing heavily and blissed out. Sluggish and satisfied. Everything is moving slower, so it takes afew seconds for me to register that Alice is moving away. Climbing out.
She doesn’t bother with her bra or underwear. Just tugs on her leggings, socks, and sweater, followed by her hat, which looks silly with her dripping hair.
“You don’t have to leave,” I say, standing so I can tug the condom off and tie the end. I toss it on the deck, then sink back beneath the hot water.
“Yeah, I do. This was fun. Thanks.”
I huff an unamused laugh.
This was fun. Thanks?
I’ve never been that cold, even if the sex was bad. And I felt her come—both times. The sex wasnotbad.
But I’ve never asked a girl for more. Even with Parker, she was the one who pushed a relationship. Part of why it stung so badly when she ended it and acted like I was the one who tied her down.
If Alice wants to leave—which she clearly does, based on how quickly she’s pulling on her coat—that’s her call.
“Yep.You’re welcome.”
She doesn’t laugh this time, just starts lacing her boots.
I wish I had more whiskey out here. Instead, I alternate between looking at the mountains and sneaking peeks at her as she finishes getting dressed.
Maybe this is about her ex. Maybe shewasthinking about him. Or maybe she’s freaking out about moving on. I experienced that with the first girl I slept with after Parker. It felt wrong being with someone else for the first time in a long time.
Nothing an endless series of flings didn’t fix.
She adjusts her hat, then glances at me.
Fully dressed, the only evidence of what just happened her wet hair and the used condom by her left boot.
“Bye, Aidan,” she says, then turns and walks down the two steps. Heads toward the spot where I first saw her.
In a matter of seconds, she’s gone, disappeared into the woods that surround the periphery of my parents’ property.
I close my eyes, enjoying the lingering euphoria of the best orgasm I’ve ever experienced.
“Bye, Alice,” I tell the night.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AIDAN
“Phillips!”
I exhale, then circle back. My jaw works a couple of times. I know I should’ve passed, but it’s not like I missed.
“Yeah, Coach?”
“Pull a move like that on Saturday, and I might just swap you and Hart. Excellent work.” Coach whistles. “Next.”
I skate back toward the bench in a state of shock.
On any other Division III team, I’d be on the first line. Except my teammate and best friend happens to be a center who could have easily played for a Division I program and secured that spot freshman year. There have been times when Coach has shifted around the lines, usually because someone was sick or injured. I’ve played on the first line, had my name announced over the loudspeaker. But it was never because ofme. Nothing got switched around because I was playing so well that change made logical sense. It was always other forces.
Conor is one of the best players in college hockey, period.
